


Payback

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pole Dancing, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor apologizes for destroying Hank’s bank account.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	Payback

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sumo greets Hank at the door, but Connor doesn’t, and that’s Hank’s first red flag—Connor’s almost always there the second he walks in to chastise him about all the horrible life choices he’s just made: analyzing the crumbs in his beard and the alcohol on his breath and asking _why can’t he just have dinner at home._ It’s because Connor puts too many vegetables in whatever he cooks at home. And sometimes Hank just wants _grease_.

Hank wants to have his cake and eat it too: junky food _and_ an intelligent partner. He sheds his jacket and shoes, pets Sumo until Sumo gets bored with him, and then wanders back through the tiny house to figure out where his boyfriend’s gone.

Connor’s not hard to find. He’s in the center of the bedroom, running his hands slowly up and down a silver pole he seems to have fixed to the ceiling. Hank’s not one for sex clubs, but he knows a stripper pole when he sees one. 

He’d ask what the hell it’s doing in his house, but he gets stuck on just staring at Connor, because Connor’s stripped down to the tightest, thinnest blue briefs Hank’s ever seen, and he can see _everything._ Honestly, Connor’s pretty face and chiseled chest would be enough, but his sculpted ass and tented crotch is a welcome sight. Hank ogles the whole mouth watering area and finally grunts out, “What the _fuck_ is going on?”

Instead of answering right away, Connor wanders away from his pole. He strolls towards the door, collecting Hank’s hand, and Hank lets himself be tugged towards the bed. Connor pushes him down on the end of it, and Hank obediently sits there, watching Connor back into the pole again. He reaches up to clasp it above his head, hips jutting forward as he explains, “Do you remember our investigation of the Eden Club, Lieutenant?”

Hank dumbly nods. He’ll never forget that. Not because he was into the androids there, but because his ears are still ringing from Fowler’s tirade at the abuse of his expense account, and because it was the first time he realized androids could feel _love_.

Connor continues, “Though it was necessary for the investigation, I regret having to spend so much of your money. I’d like to make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me,” Hank hollowly repeats. 

“Yes. You paid for the sexual services of an android, and you should receive that. However, please bear in mind that my original function isn’t a sexual one, so I can’t be expected to have the same... sensual finesse... one of Club Eden’s androids might.”

Hank grunts, “Uh-huh.” He should probably argue that he doesn’t need _any_ android sexual services, but it’s sort of hard to argue with Connor when he’s half naked. Hank’s not so into paying for sex, but he’s definitely not into looking a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, it’s different. He’s not buying a lifeless doll. It’s _Connor_. Connor pauses a moment longer, as though waiting for Hank to protest, but for once, Hank keeps his mouth shut. 

Connor nods, and the LED at his temple whirs yellow with use. Hank’s ridiculously old CD player flicks on, blasting a heavy metal song that doesn’t at all suit the mood Connor’s probably going for. Hank accepts it anyway. 

Hank sits back and watches Connor turn to the pole, pressing his chest against the cool metal whilst thrusting out his rear. Connor wiggles that perfect ass from side to side, matching every other beat of the song, probably because every first beat would be too fast for Hank’s eyes to follow. Connor keeps swaying as he slowly slides down to the floor, and then he lies back against the carpet and lifts both legs to wrap around the pole. His gorgeous brown eyes pierce into Hank, and then he’s pulling himself up and abruptly spinning around. 

He performs a serious of tricks—aerial acrobatics and twists and turns that mean nothing to Hank; he just likes watching Connor’s taut muscles flex. He likes seeing Connor’s dark hair ruffle with the motion and his cock bounce inside his underwear, not properly supported for what Connor’s going through. Connor grinds himself against the pole, alternatively humping it and curling around it. It really doesn’t fit the song at all, but Hank’s not complaining. 

With cheeks somehow flushed but no breath to come heavy, Connor practically purrs, “How am I doing, Lieutenant?”

Before he can stop himself, Hank’s admitted the truth: “You look goofy.” Then he immediately regrets it.

Connor stops moving. He straightens out. Hank barks, “I didn’t say stop!”

Connor lifts a brow and muses, “Ah, I understand. You _do_ like it, but you’re just being cantankerous.”

Hank’s nose scrunches up. “I’m not cantankerous.”

“I suggest we move onto the lap dance portion of the evening.”

Hank opens his mouth to express his surprise, but Connor’s already climbed into his lap and kissed him hard enough to shut him up. 

Hank makes the wise decision to surrender.


End file.
